


On Trust and The Significance Thereof

by Caedus501



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Mission Fic, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:54:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26231488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caedus501/pseuds/Caedus501
Summary: There's a ritual to be performed offworld and guess who gets chosen to participate?***“Come on, McKay, it’s a simple ritual,” Ronon added sotto voce.  “Besides, they kinda have a point.”John agreed with the big guy, but did so silently so as not to incur McKay’s ire.  The whole ritual really just sounded like an elaborate trust exercise. Besides, if you couldn’t trust the members of your own team, then how could you expect anyone else to trust you in turn?
Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Comments: 16
Kudos: 113





	On Trust and The Significance Thereof

“Why must we go through this every time?” McKay grumbled in a just audible enough voice.

“Would you rather they be chasing us with spears? Or have underground bunkers full of nuclear weapons?” John asked in hope of instilling a little perspective into the proceedings.

McKay appeared to think on the question for a split second at best. “It’s a toss-up,” he decided.

“Come on, McKay, it’s a simple ritual,” Ronon added sotto voce. “Besides, they kinda have a point.”

John agreed with the big guy, but did so silently so as not to incur McKay’s ire. The whole ritual really just sounded like an elaborate trust exercise. The Trade Captain of the Elanaii had met the Atlantean request for trade of goods and cultural knowledge with an impressive impassivity that John privately thought would have had the goons of the IOA jealous. After Teyla worked her diplomatic magic they were told that all trade partners of the Elanaii, whether other settlements on planet or those who came via the stargate, had to prove they could be trusted before any sort of true negotiations could take place.

Fair enough. The whole Genii thing had swiftly proven to John and the rest of the Atlantis Expedition senior staff that the Pegasus Galaxy was a complicated place. Just because the majority of the scattered human population appeared to live in primitive conditions by Terran standards, that didn’t make them any less potentially dangerous.

Besides, the point stood: If you couldn’t trust the members of your own team, then how could you expect anyone else to trust you in turn?

“The ritual is performed by two among your party of my choosing,” the Trade Captain explained. “And will be designed to suit the participants in order to achieve the most accurate results.”

“Of your own choosing!” McKay exclaimed. “Well that’s just great.”

“McKay, I’m starting to feel insulted here. It’s almost as if you don’t trust the team you’ve been working with for years now,” John said with what was not an entirely fake tone of hurt to his voice. He kept his surprise at that fact hidden beneath a smirk.

“What? Of course I trust you! How could I not?” came the indignant reply.

“Then you will have no problem completing the Elanaii ritual so that we may establish a profitable and mutually beneficial trade with the people of this planet, will you Dr. McKay?” Teyla, bless her, had clearly backed McKay into a corner and by the expression on Rodney’s face, he knew it too.

McKay held his mutinous expression for another ten or so seconds, then wilted. “Fine. But if I am made to perform a trust fall I am going to lodge an official complaint.”

“So noted,” John said and was unable to stop the accompanying eye roll. Teyla merely smiled indulgently while Ronon raised both brows at McKay’s words.

“As your Dr. McKay has expressed some level of mistrust by his initial unwillingness to participate, he must undergo the ritual and either affirm his trust of his _ja’aru_ , or team as you say, or prove that those who dwell in the City of the Ancestors seek only to benefit themselves through duplicitous means.”

John blinked at the Trade Captain. The Elanaii apparently placed a lot of value on this trade ritual since you were either deemed worthy or scum. No in-between.

“Right,” McKay said, then swallowed nervously. It seemed he too recognized the stakes. “And who is going to be my partner for this, ah, ritual?”

“He, or she,” the Trade Captain gave a nod to Teyla, “who calls them self your leader.”

John wanted to sigh, because he should have known. It was always him and Rodney. Every time there was some offworld ritual or tradition or what-have-you, somehow it always ended up being him and Rodney taking part. Not that there was a problem with that. They worked well together and were often on the same page with very little verbal communication. More importantly, John really did trust McKay with his life. It may have taken him a few weeks after the Doranda incident to get over his anger at both himself and Rodney, but that had been years ago. These days he counted on Rodney to pull miracles out of cracked control crystals and shoddy wiring just as much as he counted on Rodney to make him laugh with his rants about how wrong the science in time travel movies was.

Instead, John just took a step forward and gave a firm nod of agreement. He caught McKay beginning to open his mouth, probably to protest, and just stared him down before any words could make it past his lips.

“I have every confidence that Dr. McKay and Colonel Sheppard will prove that we can be trusted so that we may soon count one another allies,” Teyla said with her usual gravity. It was a statement filled with expectation and John knew he couldn’t let her down. He had just been as thoroughly, if more subtly, cornered into finishing this ritual as McKay had been. Whatever the Trade Captain wanted him and Rodney to do, John was going to make damn sure they passed with flying colors.

“Then we will go now to the Trade Hall to begin. Everyone is welcome, of course. We will converse while we share the traditional tea so that a proper _dasha un ja’aru_ may be implemented,” announced the Trade Captain.

“Of course there’s tea,” McKay said under his breath. “We wouldn’t want to be improper now would we?”

“Cool it, McKay!” John hissed before raising his voice to address the small group. “If this is going to take a while, we’re going to have to check in back home. Let them know we might be busy for a while.”

“I’ll do it,” Ronon volunteered. “I can head back to the gate then return to observe the ritual.”

John was immediately jealous that he couldn’t run back to the gate himself, instead he was getting traditional tea. Oh the joys of leadership.

“That is acceptable,” the Trade Captain allowed. “One of my lieutenants will accompany you. Since the _dasha un ja’aru_ is as yet uncompleted for your people, and your status undecided, we do this for our security.”

Ronon shot a glance at John who shrugged minutely, _What can you do?_ his shoulder indicated. “No problem,” Ronon said, but John knew he would be on high alert the entire time he was away from the team. Not that that was any different from how Ronon normally operated when they were offworld to begin with.

The small gathering that had been discussing things in an outdoor square, for lack of a better term, broke up. Ronon went off with one of the women who had been standing attentively at the Trade Captain’s shoulder in the direction of the gate, while the rest of them proceeded down a series of pathways – streets? – until they came to the biggest building John had seen yet on this planet. It was built from bricks of some kind that came in two different shades of grey-brown. This difference in color was used to great effect to create an impressive edifice at least three stories tall and occupying a footprint of several hundred square feet. If John hadn’t guessed how central trade was to the Elanaii way of life, or at least their economy, by the unwavering binary results of the _dasha un ja’aru_ or the fact that the person in charge of trade on this planet was a semi-militarized Captain with his own Lieutenants, then the Trade Hall would have clued him in.

“Huh, I was not expecting that,” McKay said as they gazed up at the great grey and brown structure in front of them. He seemed to be reevaluating the baseline intelligence of the Elanaii as a civilization based on their architecture which featured big arching windows, columns, and the odd, delicately fenced in balcony.

John’s lips twitched into a small smile. “You know what they say about judging a book by its cover, McKay.”

“Please, Colonel. If the title or the cover of a book can’t entice me to read at least the first paragraph then I see no need to waste my time on it,” McKay said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

This sentiment seemed to bypass John’s entire point, but he let it go in favor of studying his surroundings as they entered the Trade Hall through an impressively large set of metal reinforced wooden doors. As he looked around he noticed that everything seemed surprisingly familiar. There was a distinct air of governmental bureaucracy in the efficient way people moved to and fro. The hushed conversations. The bland artwork. The very obvious receptionist and security guard. It was slightly creepy to find such a place on a planet that still used bows and arrows as a primary means of long range defense. The only real difference was a distinct lack of electronics or paper. John had no idea if the Elanaii had some sort of system of writing or record keeping, but given an entire office building for trade relations existed, he guessed they must have one.

“Why do I get the feeling Woolsey would love it here?” McKay whispered to John once the team had relinquished their weapons to a locked wooden box as requested and were following after the Trade Captain and his entourage. John only made a face in agreement. Woolsey would absolutely get along well with these people.

They were led up a flight of stairs (John tried to build a map of the place in his head just in case they had to make a quick exit) to a room where they were instructed to “please, sit.” This room was less “modern workplace” and much closer to what John was accustomed to finding in the Pegasus Galaxy. It was like a combination of a tent and a conference room. The walls and ceiling were draped with warmly colored fabrics which made everything seem closer. There was no table for them to sit at, instead there was a circle of cushions arranged around some sort of stone plinth in the center of the room. Spaced along the edges of the room was a display case with objects John couldn’t guess the purposes of, a set of what were obviously scales of the Lady Justice sort, and an assortment of amphorae, barrels, and bottles of various sizes, materials, and colors.

John watched Teyla examine the room, waiting to take his cue from her as to whether this whole situation seemed on the level. It was clear to John that the room had passed her test when she finally relaxed her shoulders and sat down on a cushion. John and Rodney claimed their own cushions on either side of her and waited to see what this traditional tea and conversation were all about.

***

The tea itself was more floral tasting than John usually liked and he could tell by the way McKay scrunched his nose and frowned into his cup that he wasn’t a fan either. At least it had been presented to them with a minimum of fuss. There had been no holding hands and singing kumbaya, so it was one of the less painful tea ceremonies John had experienced in his time in Pegasus.

It was the conversation that largely concerned him. Both he and McKay tried to keep relatively quiet, preferring Teyla to do most of the talking. Still the questions the Trade Captain asked seemed almost random. Some were incredibly individual and specific while others were hugely broad and cultural. As Teyla was not from Earth herself, John and Rodney had to field several questions that pertained to everything from marriage ceremonies to sports as entertainment to cooking. They tried to answer everything be it personal or cultural as vaguely as possible without it seeming that they were purposely obfuscating the truth. Whatever data the Trade Captain was mining for, he went about it in such a way as to thoroughly confuse John.

After about two hours of this, during which time Ronon made it back from the gate and made his own face at the floral tea, the Trade Captain announced that he had sufficient information to devise an appropriate _dasha un ja’aru_ for them and needed only the necessary time to inform the Commission and prepare what was needed. 

This alarmed John. Not only was this the first he had heard of any sort of Commission among the Elanaii hierarchy of leadership, but he had absolutely no clue as to what he was going to be asked to do. He looked to McKay to see if he had figured anything out during the conversation, but all John saw were wide blue eyes that looked about as panicked as John felt.

When the Trade Captain left to do whatever it was he needed to do to prepare, Teyla gave both John and Rodney a pep talk of sorts. She reminded them that they had worked and lived together on Atlantis for many years and surely there was nothing they would not do for each other and the rest of the expedition.

“Yes, yes,” McKay waved aside Teyla’s assurances, “what exactly are we going to be doing though? He never said. Or was I just not paying attention? I got a bit distracted for a while by an idea that popped into my head about how we can recalibrate the long range sensors to look for—”

“McKay!” John interrupted before Rodney could get himself going on a tangent. “You didn’t miss anything, and whatever this test is, we are going to do it without complaining. I’m pretty sure that any complaining will count against us.”

“What, are we playing for points?”

“I did not get the impression that this ritual has a standardized method of judgment. Rather your performance is evaluated by all who observe and then discussed,” Teyla informed them.

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” McKay said.

“Don’t worry, McKay, it can’t be anything too bad,” Ronon said and clapped McKay on the shoulder. “From what that Lieutenant said when we were on our way back from the gate plenty of people trade happily with the Elanaii. If the _dasha un ja’aru_ was difficult to complete then they wouldn’t have so many trade partners throughout the galaxy.”

Oddly enough that was comforting to John. He knew that he and Rodney would be fine once McKay got passed his anxiety.

The Trade Captain returned. “If you would all follow me we will proceed to the training grounds for the initial phase of the ritual.”

And so they went. The Trade Captain traipsed them through town to the outskirts then another half a klick beyond that. The group came to a field filled with strange wooden structures placed in a seemingly random pattern, but there was something about the whole set up that sent up red flags of familiarity in John’s mind.

“The _dasha un ja’aru_ will begin here,” the Trade Captain announced as he gestured at the obstacle filled field. “As leader of your delegation, Colonel Sheppard, you will be first to prove your trust in your _ja’aru_ and Dr. McKay’s trustworthiness by extension.”

“Alright. What do I have to do?” John asked as he stepped forward.

The Trade Captain smiled, “You must trust your teammate, Colonel,” he said and deftly slipped a piece of fabric around John’s head and secured it with a tight knot before John had a grasp on what was happening. He had a few moments of disorientation as he went from being able to scan his surroundings with all of his senses to suddenly being cut off from his eyesight. He wobbled in place just a bit merely from having to recalibrate his sense of balance to adjust based on what his body was feeling instead of what his eyes were telling him. Then a firm hand grasped his shoulder and he easily steadied himself against it. The brief squeeze told him the hand was Rodney’s and that John didn’t have to worry because Rodney had his back.

John immediately felt the tension in his neck release. He hadn’t even realized that he had seized up.

“Okay, then what do _I_ have to do?” John heard Rodney echo his earlier question from right beside him.

“Based on his position as a leader of a fighting force and on what I have learned about him from our conversation, I have determined that Colonel Sheppard demands and expects to have control over all situations which involve physical threat or even just physical exertion.”

Well damn if that wasn’t bang on the money. Though John found it to be a somewhat obvious conclusion, he was the military commander of Atlantis after all. Having control of a situation so that he could keep his people safe went with the job.

“In this part of the _dasha un ja’aru_ the Colonel will give up that control and entrust Dr. McKay to lead him through the standard Trade Defense Force training course.”

There was a snort from somewhere behind and to the left of him that John easily identified as Ronon’s. Honestly, John could agree with the big guy’s sentiment. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t trust Rodney to get him through an obstacle course that was likely meant to test strength, agility, and endurance, but more of a question as to whether McKay could make it through such a course himself, let alone instruct John in how to go about it. It was practically the blind leading the blind.

Apparently even McKay agreed. John heard an aggrieved sigh then a soft, if cynical, “oh perfect,” from the man standing at his side.

The Trade Captain continued, “Lieutenant Qintas will precede you on the course to demonstrate how each obstacle is intended to be overcome. You may begin now.”

There was a sound of a multiple people walking away from John and Rodney over the grassy field and John tried not to get nervous about being left in McKay’s hands for what was essentially a PT session.

“Oh how the tables have turned, Sheppard,” McKay said as he gently prodded John’s shoulder to get him to start walking.

“Rodney,” John began in irritation, but didn’t know how to go on. Not only did simply walking at a normal pace suddenly require all of his attention, but, annoyingly, McKay was right. John had mocked McKay’s ability – or lack thereof – to endure the military’s rigorous standards of physical fitness often enough, this had to seem like some kind of deserved karmic payback to Rodney. John sighed, “Let’s just get through this, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. No fun allowed for the scientist. I know the drill. Come on, looks like our first event will be hurdles.”

 _Hurdles?_ “You’re kidding right?” John asked in disbelief. No way were they expecting him to jump blindfolded over groin height bars of wood or metal. Somehow he doubted they were rigged to fall down if knocked into like the ones in the track and field events he’d watched during the Olympics.

“Ha! You wish. Any chance you’re part gazelle? This Qintas woman clearly is.”

“Not helping, Rodney.”

There was no response from McKay. The silence went on for what was probably only fifteen or so seconds, but without being able to see Rodney’s face he had no idea what this particular silence meant. It was an entirely unnerving feeling. So much of John’s regular interaction with McKay depended on being able to read his facial expressions, observe the curl of his shoulders, or watch his flying hands. Now all he had to rely on was McKay’s tone of voice and his own knowledge of how Rodney thought and operated.

Turned out silence without visual input was difficult to read.

“McKay?” he ventured hesitantly reaching a hand out to where he was pretty sure McKay was standing. He had to know that Rodney was fully with him for this trial. McKay’s hand hadn’t left his shoulder, but John suddenly found it imperative to know that his teammate was fully mentally present as well, and not half focused on the mysteries of the universe as he often was.

“Shut up, I’m thinking,” came the immediate, snappish response.

John instantly felt better. McKay was clearly taking this seriously. Rodney could think his way out of anything. This whole situation might be a little out of his usual wheelhouse, but John was confident in Rodney’s ability to break the world down into manageable bits that he could easily manipulate.

“Okay. The Trade Captain didn’t say anything about not allowing practice or experimentation, and I think to do this I’m going to have to accurately gauge your stride and how high you can jump. Then I can coach you from there.”

That sounded…completely logical and was just about the only way to make it blindfolded over a set of hurdles.

Rodney turned him around and instructed him to take three running steps then leap as high as he could.

John complied and immediately found himself with a mouth full of dirt. He hadn’t really realized until he was mid-jump that he had no way to orient his body in space with respect to the ground without being able to see where he was going. When his foot hit the earth he simply wasn’t ready for the impact and his knee crumpled under his weight. He spent a moment face down just trying to get his bearings again and thinking unpleasant thoughts about gravity.

“Right. Should have seen that coming,” Rodney said in a tone of voice that made John think Rodney was rolling his eyes at himself for once. “Let’s try again, but this time I’ll hold your elbow or something.”

The “or something” turned out to have to be his hand otherwise John couldn’t run correctly, but once they figured that out they had better luck. They worked out a system where Rodney gave John’s hand an extra warning squeeze before he hit the ground after jumping and Rodney kept him from stumbling too badly.

“Lovely form, Colonel. You should make it over the hurdles easily, but you’re going to have to take slightly smaller steps or you’re just going to run right into them before you can jump.”

“Seriously? I just figured out how not to fall on my ass and now you want me to change how I run?” John demanded.

“Well excuse me for not wanting to overtax your ability to adapt to having less sensory input than usual by making you adjust your gait and figure out how to orient yourself in midair all at once!”

It was a fair point, but John certainly wasn’t about to admit that out loud. “Fine,” he said grudgingly, then submitted to another five minutes of McKay’s exacting critiques of his running and jumping until McKay felt they had the spacing correct.

“That’s as good as you’re gonna get. Let’s do this,” McKay proclaimed. His voice seemed to hold more confidence than John felt, but as this whole exercise was about trusting his teammate John let himself be led to what he assumed was the start line for the hurdles.

“Okay Sheppard. Just like that last practice run. Do one jump then I’ll re-set you for the next one.”

“How many are there?”

“Just five. You can do this.”

Rodney’s confidence was oddly inspiring. John gave a firm nod of agreement. “ _We_ can do this,” he restated to McKay making sure to emphasize that it was going to have to be a team effort. He tightened his grip on Rodney’s hand and started running.

Much to John’s surprise, the first two hurdles went according to plan. He even heard Ronon and Teyla cheering them on. He began to think that he and Rodney could actually make it through this bizarre trust ritual.

Then he clipped the shin of his back leg on the third hurdle and his nascent positivity tanked. McKay let him curse vehemently for about twenty seconds before he told John to, “Suck it up, Colonel, you’ve had worse.”

John wanted to shout that that wasn’t really the point. Sure the pain wasn’t much, but it was the surprise of the impact that got to him. Not being able to see a potential source of injury coming for him was an unpleasant experience. Having near perfect vision was part of his identity as a military pilot. Being deprived of something he needed to be able to keep his wings was just not sitting well with him. Even if it was only temporary.

He didn’t shout, but he did grumble a bit. “Jeeze, Rodney. Just give me a second will you?” McKay scoffed and started poking at him to line up for the next jump. 

They eventually made it passed the last two hurdles as well as the next three obstacles without too much trouble. It took an inordinate amount of time, but Rodney was surprisingly patient with John as he explained the set-up of whatever faced them and how he intended to get John through it. John occasionally got to offer some input based on his own experience and what he thought his body was actually capable of, and Rodney incorporated his comments into his planning mostly without complaint. Some obstacles they took slower than one normally would and others required practice before McKay would let John tackle it, but Rodney always got him safely to the other side.

One such obstacle was the classic sheer climbing wall with a rope that John had no problem scaling, but the jump down made him hesitate.

“It’s only ten feet, Colonel. You can do this in your sleep. You’ll fall for about a second. Less than that really. Just, um, bend your knees and roll.”

If there was one thing John trusted Rodney to accurately estimate it was time and distance to impact – basic physics – so John jumped, tucked, and rolled. The grassy ground was relatively soft so it wasn’t that bad in the end. Then McKay hauled him up and they proceeded to make their way across the top of some strategically spaced stumps of differing heights.

Throughout the exercise John noticed that Rodney maintained contact with him nearly the entire time, be it a hand on his shoulder or elbow, their shoulders brushing together as they discussed strategy, or their hands tightly griping each other. Considering John usually didn’t like anyone to touch him, he was oddly comforted by this gesture of reassurance from Rodney.

On the whole, John thought he was doing rather well with the whole trust McKay to get him through a physical training obstacle course he probably could have done on his own in about a third of the time it was taking him to do it blindfolded thing – that is until he heard McKay say, “Oh shit. Huh. Well that, uh, that could be a bit of a challenge.”

John almost didn’t want to ask what McKay considered “a bit of a challenge” after all they had already done, which John had personally found plenty challenging when having to rely on Rodney to be his eyes. “What is it, McKay?”

“What is it?” Rodney repeated back, his voice sounding distinctly nervous. “It’s, well, it’s a bit of a ravine. Or maybe a chasm? Perhaps a gorge? I’m not entirely sure how one would define this particular geological feature. I’m an astrophysicist! I don’t waste the valuable space in my brain on things as mundane as rocks!”

“Okay, no problem. We can deal with a ravine,” John said calmly, placing a hand on Rodney’s shoulder. He still had no idea what they were supposed to do with said ravine, but he knew from McKay’s high speed babble that the man was scared. Normally when this sort of situation arose John could talk Rodney down by assuring him that John knew what he was doing and he wasn’t going to let anything happen to anyone on the team. That was why they went out in teams in the first place, so they could have each other’s backs. Now, though, their roles were reversed. John needed Rodney to see them safely to the other side of the ravine. If John could get Rodney past his nerves he had no doubt that they would be fine. “We’ve made it through every other obstacle so far, we can do this one too. You hear me McKay?”

“You’re only saying that because you can’t see how far we would fall if we don’t make the swing.”

“The swing? So we don’t have to free climb down a cliff or anything?”

“Oh you would love that, wouldn’t you? Well sorry to disappoint you, Colonel, but you’re going to have to settle for swinging across a fifty foot chasm rather than climbing down a hundred foot wall without the appropriate safety gear!”

“That’s not what I meant, Rodney. I’m just trying to understand what we need to do,” John said trying to keep Rodney from freaking out more than he already was. He had to find a way to get McKay to focus on the mechanics of the stunt rather than the potential danger. When McKay was thinking about science or engineering he could do just about anything. “Is there a rope or something we can use? Qintas already went across, right? Is the rope still there?”

“The rope?” McKay said in a small voice. “Yes, there’s a rope. Sort of. Um, Qintas has it on the other side.”

“Okay. Good. Do you think she would swing it over to you?”

There was a pause, then McKay took John’s hand off his shoulder and gripped it tightly while he waved his other arm around and shouted to get Qintas’ attention. Rodney caught the rope when it was swung over, for which John was grateful since he didn’t know how they would have retrieved it if the rope had ended up hanging straight down over the middle of the ravine from whatever he assumed was holding it up.

“Now what?” Rodney asked. He still sounded scared.

“Do you think whatever is holding the rope up can take our combined weight?” John knew there were a couple ways they could both get across the ravine, but if they could make the swing together they had the best chance of succeeding. John needed Rodney’s eyes, and Rodney needed John’s assurances that they wouldn’t fall.

“Yes. The rope is hanging from the center of a sort of arch bridge that spans the chasm.”

“Perfect,” John said, pleased that they weren’t going to have to entrust their lives to a tree branch or something. “McKay, we can do this. Together. It will be like Luke and Leia in the Death Star only easier cause no one’s shooting at us.”

“Don’t count your chickens, Colonel. There’s still time for the Elanaii to start shooting at us.”

“I’m trying to think positive, McKay,” John said in exasperation. “Now, what do you say?”

Rodney was quiet for a moments so John waited him out. “Luke and Leia in the Death Star, huh? You realize that makes you—”

“Leia? Yeah, I know,” John agreed happily. He was just relieved that Rodney was going with the plan. “She’s a badass though so I’m fine with it.”

“Whatever you say, Princess. If you get any urges to don a metal bikini let me know.” Weirdly John could practically hear the smirk in McKay’s voice.

John blinked behind his blindfold. He had a momentary vision of himself dressed in the famous metal bikini from _Return of the Jedi_ while Rodney ran a hand over his bared shoulders. His stomach suddenly felt fluttery and his breathing stuttered. What on earth? “Why would you want me to wear a bikini?”

“What? I didn’t – I mean, I’m not saying – I didn’t say that!” Rodney finally spluttered out.

John thought back over their last exchange, his heart hammering for no reason he could fathom. “Yeah, you kind of did, Rodney.”

“Can we just focus please? In case you’ve forgotten, there’s a ravine we need to cross. Now shut up and let me figure out how to secure this rope!” McKay snapped in his usual irritated voice. 

John really wished he could see Rodney’s face right now. He had a feeling it might be as bright red as his own felt. Somehow their usual banter had gotten away from him and strayed into a territory that he wasn’t quite sure how to navigate. This happened occasionally with Rodney and it always left John feeling off kilter, like he was standing on a precipice ready to take off for clear skies, but found himself diving down toward the earth instead of flying up into the blue.

He shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts away. He had to stay focused on the mission at hand. Securing trade rights with the Elanaii would provide them with a dependable supply of a staple grain, a couple new domesticated animals that were a good source of calcium rich milk, not to mention a new fruit that John suspected would make an excellent pie filling. But before they could get the goods they had to complete the trust ritual. John couldn’t afford to get distracted by his weird Rodney-centric imaginings and forget why they were here or what they were doing.

“So I have the rope tied around my waist, and I’ll hang onto it as we swing and you’ll… hang on to me?” Rodney finished his statement as a question, apparently looking for John’s approval. 

“Sounds like a plan, buddy. Just let me know when and how, I guess.”

“How. Right,” McKay paused again, probably to contemplate the best arrangement for the two of them that would allow for maximum velocity and optimum landing on the other side of the ravine. “On my back, I think. That way I can still use both my arms and it will be easiest for you to hang on.”

John nodded, willing his brain to not interpret Rodney’s words in any way other than how they applied to their current predicament. He hastily cleared his throat, “Yeah, okay.”

McKay steered them closer to the cliff’s edge, placed John’s hands on his shoulders and instructed him to “hop up.” As John wrapped his arms across Rodney’s broad shoulders and linked his legs around Rodney’s waist he couldn’t help but think that by the end of this obstacle course he will have spent more time in close physical contact with Rodney than he had with any other person over the last six years combined. Once that thought settled in his brain he didn’t know which surprised him more: his total _lack_ of surprise that this dubious honor went to Dr. Meredith Rodney McKay, PhD, PhD. Or that the strength he could feel in Rodney’s shoulders and torso was incredibly reassuring at the moment and all he wanted to do was cling tighter and bury his face in Rodney’s neck until it was safe to get down.

“Oh god. I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Rodney muttered once John was efficiently imitating an octopus latched onto Rodney’s back.

“Hey,” John said softly into his scientist’s ear, “I trust you.”

Rodney let out a slow breath then, much to John’s surprise, he said, “Thank you for telling me that.” 

John was stunned that Rodney didn’t already know that John trusted him with his life. Hell, there was no one John trusted more. Not even Ronon and Teyla, though they were extremely close seconds. But then he remembered that exchange in the transporter back in the second year of the expedition after the Doranda incident. John had told Rodney then that he would have to earn John’s trust back. Even though Rodney had done just that years ago, maybe he didn’t know it. It’s not as though John made a habit of telling people big important things like that. He couldn’t believe he had inadvertently let Rodney walk around with that kind of shadow hanging over their friendship for so long.

“You ready?” John inquired instead.

“As I’ll ever be,” Rodney replied, sounding less than enthusiastic about the situation.

“Well then,” John decided to fully embrace his role as Leia in this moment and kissed Rodney’s cheek. “Good luck,” he said, completing his line, then he gave in and pushed his forehead into the crook of Rodney’s neck.

McKay made a noise somewhere between a whimper and a laugh then jumped out over the ledge.

Wind whooshed past John’s ears and his heart raced as they arced down through the air. Normally he loved this sort of maneuver. It was kind of like flying or being in a Ferris Wheel, but when he couldn’t see his surroundings and all that was between him and an untimely death by impact at terminal velocity was his hold on Rodney and a rope of unknown quality tied around Rodney’s waist, John found he couldn’t enjoy the sensation of soaring as much as he wanted to.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” McKay chanted with increasing volume as they swung.

Then, abruptly, the wind stopped and their forward motion changed from a smooth glide to a jerky stumble.

They were back on solid ground. They had made it.

John let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and felt the corners of his mouth turn up at McKay’s emphatic, “Holy Crap!”

“You did good, McKay,” John told him, his voice somewhat muffled by Rodney’s shoulder, as he patted awkwardly at Rodney’s chest without releasing his grip on the man. “Didn’t doubt you for a second.”

“Never again,” McKay stated with conviction. “Not even for coffee.”

John couldn’t help but laugh at that. There was very little that McKay wouldn’t do for coffee in this galaxy.

“Um, Sheppard?”

“Yeah Rodney?”

“You can get down now.”

In a swift moment of clarity John realized that he was still clinging to Rodney like a barnacle. How embarrassing. “Oh, right. Sorry.” He rapidly detached himself and moved to take a hasty step away from McKay, but he felt a hand grab hold of his wrist and stop him. “We’re still by a cliff,” McKay reminded him. “Come on. This way.”

As they walked John’s ears picked up an echo of footsteps from in front of them. He automatically slowed down, not knowing who or what was in front of them, and pulled gently on Rodney’s arm to communicate his concern.

“It’s okay,” McKay assured him in a hushed tone. “It’s just the observing group. The Trade Captain, Ronon, Teyla, and the rest.”

“Colonel Sheppard, Dr. McKay, are you well?” Teyla’s voice broke into their quiet bubble.

“Never better,” Rodney responded.

“Well done Colonel, Doctor. The first part of your _dasha un ja’aru_ is complete,” the Trade Captain told them. “You may remove the cloth from your eyes, Colonel.”

“Fantastic,” John muttered and shoved at the rough cloth. He blinked rapidly in the sudden onslaught of light and fought the urge to bury his face back in Rodney’s shoulder until his eyes stopped watering.

“Nice work, McKay,” Ronon offered in a rare compliment to Rodney. “We should get you doing a course like this for real. I think you could handle it.”

“What exactly about the last hour and a half worth of activity gives you the impression that I should be undertaking some sort of military designed physical torture course? Sheppard did the actual labor. I just supervised.”

Ronon shrugged. “You could do it.”

“Eloquent as ever.” Rodney rolled his eyes.

“Please, if you would follow me we will make our way to the House of Rwanna for the second half of the ritual,” said the Trade Captain before he marched off at a brisk pace.

“No rest for the weary I see,” McKay complained, but he stepped to obediently enough.

“Here,” Teyla said and shoved a canteen each into John and Rodney’s hands. “You should drink. You have both worked hard to overcome the obstacle course.”

Seriously Teyla was the best. She always thought practically when they were out in the field. John had barely even noticed that he was, in fact, parched.

“You are a goddess Teyla,” McKay praised their teammate as he took his canteen and a small purple fruit from her.

They walked at a comfortable pace back into town and discussed their different interpretations of the _dasha un ja’aru_ so far. From what Teyla and Ronon said, John got the impression that the Elanaii held the Atlantean contingent in a relatively favorable light, but they weren’t exactly effusive in their praise of John and Rodney’s performance.

“I do not think that is a bad thing, Colonel Sheppard,” Teyla was quick to reassure them. “The Trade Captain and the Commission Representative have expressed their wish to reserve their judgment of our people until the completion of the trade ritual.”

“Probably smart, even if it’s not very encouraging,” John muttered.

“Any clues as to what the ‘House of Rwanna’ is?” McKay queried.

“Pretty sure it’s just some lady’s house, McKay,” Ronon answered.

Rodney scowled and got ready to give a no doubt scathing reply, but Teyla cut him off. “I believe Rwanna is a member of the Commission,” she said calmly. “I was given the impression that she is responsible for hosting what you might call ‘diplomatic dinners.’”

“I wouldn’t mind some lunch,” John commented.

Teyla lifted an elegant eyebrow at him. “You should not forget that the Trade Captain said we are going to the House of Rwanna for the second half of the _dasha un ja’aru_ , not to partake of a meal. In the eyes of the Elanaii we are not yet worthy of being trading partners who might participate in such a gathering.”

“How do you always know this sort of thing?” Rodney demanded.

“Because I listen and engage in polite conversation.”

John tried to keep his laughter from escaping, but didn’t quite manage it. Rodney glared at him for the brief chuckle.

“I listen!” he insisted, still glaring as they continued to trudge back into town. “I converse!”

“The key word was ‘polite,’ McKay,” Ronon helpfully pointed out. He too had an amused air about his expression.

“You’re one to talk, Conan!” Rodney was still indignant.

Ronon refused to rise to the bait and just shrugged in response.

John decided that infighting amongst the team would probably not do much to demonstrate that they did, in fact, trust each other even if they bickered a lot. He had no doubt that they were still under observation by the Elanaii. He clapped McKay on the shoulder, “Don’t sweat it, McKay. You’ve actually come a long way in the diplomatic relations field.” The look Rodney gave him told John that he wasn’t convinced. John gave a sort of acknowledging shrug, “Okay, so you’ll never be Teyla or, or Elizabeth,” he briefly stumbled over their former expedition leader’s name, “But you aren’t antagonizing people on first sight anymore. Besides, this is why we go out in teams. We all have different strengths so that we can cover each other’s backs.”

“What a moving speech, Sheppard,” Rodney said, the sarcasm clear in his voice. “Did you practice that one?”

“Shut up, Rodney. I was being serious.”

That seemed to shock McKay. “Oh,” he breathed out quietly, “Um, thanks, then.”

They all lapsed into silence after that. But it was a comfortable silence, one where they were all content to be with each other doing what they did best.

Soon enough they were back among the brick buildings of the settlement. The part of town they were led to this time, however, had fewer big buildings and more short ones that had a residential look to them. Different colored doors and window frames, decorative plants, the occasional chair in a patch of sun, all of these things made the area look lived in and peaceful instead of bureaucratic like in the Trade Hall. The Trade Captain led the small group to a two story house in good repair with a sage green wooden door that blended tastefully with the gray brick of the walls. There really wasn’t much to mark it as significant compared to any of the others around it. Ronon was right, it was just some lady’s house.

When the Trade Captain rang the bell hanging just outside the door it was opened by a woman dressed in what John had decided was business casual for the Elanaii based on what he had seen people wearing in the Trade Hall – a hip length, long sleeved tunic with asymmetrical closures that was cinched at the waist with a colorful sash, wide legged trousers, and solid looking boots. She looked like someone who meant business.

“Representative Rwanna,” the Trade Captain greeted her with a slight bow of the head, “May I present the delegation from Atlantis. Teyla Emmagan, Specialist Ronon Dex, and the two undertaking the _dasha un ja’aru,_ Dr. McKay and Colonel Sheppard.”

Representative Rwanna looked them all over critically before turning back to the Trade Captain. “I have prepared my hearth as you have requested and am honored to play host to the Atlantean delegation for their _dasha un ja’aru_.”

Rodney shot John a look that clearly said _could have fooled me._ The woman looked just short of pissed off to have a small group of people traipsing through her home.

“We thank you for your hospitality Representative Rwanna, and assure you that Colonel Sheppard and Dr. McKay will treat your home with all due respect as they complete the ritual,” Teyla said. It was as much an assurance to the less-than-pleased woman standing in the doorway as it was a warning to John and Rodney to be on their best behavior.

Rwanna eyed John and Rodney for a moment, her mouth pressed into a thin line, then raised an eyebrow like she doubted Teyla could promise any such thing. It was almost a shock that she turned to gesture the group inside despite her open disdain.

They were led through a couple of elegantly appointed rooms that were decorated in rich earth tones, tasteful fabrics, and comfortable or useful looking furniture as was appropriate. They stopped their tour in what was clearly a kitchen since it had all sorts of ingredients set out. There was nothing actually cooking, but John noted a fire going in a stone fireplace in the corner. Rwanna’s phrase “prepared my hearth” popped into John’s head and he had a sudden feeling of foreboding about the direction this ritual might go.

“This is where Colonel Sheppard will work. The rest of us, including Dr. McKay, will take refreshment in the Gathering Room,” announced the Trade Captain.

“Wait, wait. I thought this was my test?” Rodney interjected. “Why is Sheppard doing the work?”

“Because your part of this ritual is to trust your _ja’aru_ , as I explained to Colonel Sheppard earlier. As such, you shall allow your teammate to cook you a meal, which you, along with all of us, will then eat.”

Both John and Rodney stared at each other for a moment, not needing words to agree that this could only end poorly, before they both turned to stare at the Trade Captain.

“You have got to be kidding me?” Rodney exclaimed at the same time John said, “That is a really bad idea.”

That response got them an eyebrow from both the Trade Captain and Teyla. Ronon just smirked, as was typical for him.

“Well excuse me for being wary of eating a meal cooked by a man who has spent most of his life eating in mess halls and cafeterias! He probably burns water!” Rodney defended himself.

“Hey now! That’s a bit harsh,” John grimaced then continued, “But not entirely off the mark.” John turned to the Trade Captain, “With all due respect, sir, I don’t want to undermine your ritual, but I can barely cook an edible meal when I’m working with familiar ingredients. I’m not sure I’m going to find hot dogs or Ragu in Representative Rwanna’s kitchen.”

The Trade Captain just smiled. “Then this is an even better _dasha un ja’aru_ than I had originally anticipated! I had only surmised that Dr. McKay takes his food very seriously, not that you do not trust your own abilities, Colonel. However, in deference to your unfamiliarity with our local fare I shall allow you to ask for information or advice from Representative Rwanna who will be supervising your preparations.”

John had no choice but to flash a smile and express his… gratitude. Teyla’s serene yet intense stare told him that it was definitely gratitude he ought to be feeling.

The group started to file back out of the kitchen at the Trade Captain’s signal, but Rodney lingered to eye the selection of ingredients already laid out on a table. John stood by him and made his own survey while trying to wrack his brain for anything that could help him. 

He was doomed. If anyone had told him back when he joined the expedition on a coin toss that the success of an offworld mission would depend on his ability to cook a homemade meal for Rodney McKay he would have laughed in their face.

“Just remember, Sheppard, no—”

“—Citrus. Yeah, I know, McKay. I’m not an idiot. I have no intention of poisoning you,” he said, trying to sound confident and reassuring.

“Not on purpose, anyway,” McKay muttered darkly. “Oh, and nothing that—”

“—tastes like strawberries. I told you, I know.” Even after nearly six years John still hadn’t heard the story behind the thing with the strawberries. Every time he tried to pry it out of McKay the man changed the subject so fast and so efficiently it sometimes left John unsure if he had actually brought the topic up out loud. Given that it was the only food that John knew of that Rodney was able to eat, yet voluntarily – not to mention vehemently – refused to ingest, made the strawberry thing a point of recurring curiosity for John.

“And make sure—”

“Rodney!” John finally turned to his friend and grabbed his shoulders to make certain McKay was paying attention. “You’re going to have to trust me.”

Rodney let out a sigh. “That’s so much easier to do when it involves shooting things and running, not impromptu luncheons.”

“You saying you wouldn’t trust me with dinner?” John felt his stomach flip as he waited for Rodney’s answer. He wasn’t quite sure why he had asked that.

“I’m saying I would trust you to pick out a place for us to eat where I could happily harangue the kitchen staff into preparing a safe meal for me lest they be met with a lawsuit the likes of which the galaxy has never seen, but you cooking is nowhere in that vision.”

John couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. It wasn’t exactly an inspiring speech at the moment, but oddly Rodney’s words gave him a sense of warmth. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, buddy.”

“Dr. McKay,” Teyla said from the doorway. They both turned to her and noticed that Representative Rwanna was with her. “Come,” she said with a gesture toward the deeper recesses of the house, “we are to join the others in the Gathering Room for tea.”

“Oh goody. Tea.” Rodney grimaced at the prospect of more flowery tea, but he gave John one last nod before following Teyla out of the kitchen.

Now it was just John and the indifferent-bordering-on-hostile Representative Rwanna. And a whole bunch of who knew what spread out before him that even Atlantis’ botanists probably couldn’t identify. John honestly wasn’t sure who got the worse deal out of this particular ritual: Him or Rodney.

He knew McKay freaked out about food. Between the citrus allergy and the hypoglycemia how could he not? McKay maybe blustered about it a bit more than necessary, but John could see where the impetus came from. Any time he ate out at a restaurant McKay was taking a huge risk. One improperly washed knife, one misplaced lemon garnish and suddenly he’d be turning blue on the floor. It had to be terrifying every time he entrusted someone hidden away from his eyes in a kitchen to make him a meal. It was no wonder McKay liked MREs and processed food so much. The ingredients were right there for him to read on the package.

John was determined to make this a meal that Rodney wouldn’t have to worry about. He just needed a game plan, a strategy that would see him to the other end of this campaign.

Or a recipe.

In cooking it was called a recipe. Of that much he was reasonably certain.

He looked closer at the offerings. There were definitely some grains that looked kind of like rice or maybe couscous. Some small, round hard things that resembled dried orange peas, or possibly a dried berry. Except there was a good bet that the bumpy purple things were fresh berries. Would they give him two different kinds of berries? He saw a couple of root type vegetables, a froth of leafy greens – apparently some things were universal. Too bad it was lettuce – and a bunch of jars of different colored powders. John was pretty sure those were spices.

It was a colorful spread which brought to mind a random cooking show that Nancy had watched. John had never understood why she watched those shows anyway since Nancy didn’t cook any more than he did, but they apparently made an impression. He could distinctly hear a perky female voice insisting that a meal should be colorful because that indicated a wide variety of nutrients. As long as he used at least three different ingredients from the table then he was sure to meet that particular criterion. He just had no idea how to put them all together in a vaguely pleasing, not to mention edible, manner.

The only other real cooking experience he had was half a day spent with an old Afghani woman named Asmaan who took pity on a poor American Air Force Major when he begged to learn how she made her Norinj Palau so damn good. It had been his day off and he was feeling a bit stir crazy staying on base so he had wandered into the market of the local town where Asmaan was one of several people selling hot meals. John had found at the time that making nice with the locals and showing an interest in their customs or culture made for a more pleasant overall experience while being deployed in Afghanistan in the midst of a war.

That memory made John pause and look closer at everything laid out before him. He even went so far as to sniff a few things. His nose told him that he just might be able to make a modified, Pegasus version of that one Afghan dish he had learned to make years ago.

Newly confident, he struck up a conversation with Rwanna that largely consisted of questions and curt answers. He tried to get an idea of the flavors arrayed before him and which spices complemented which vegetables. He filled a pot with water and decided to use the almost-rice as the base of the dish. If John had to make enough for all the people in the Gathering Room then he was going to need a lot of almost-rice and at the very least he knew it took a while for that much water to boil over a regular fire.

After determining that Rwanna did in fact have a stash of meat that came from some kind of bird on hand, not just the veggies, legumes, and grains on the table, John set to work. First he located a couple of implements of precision destruction that he thought even Ronon would appreciate, even if they were only the equivalent of kitchen knives. He chopped and sliced, he measured out nuts and spices, he popped a few things in his mouth just to confirm a lack of citrus. Some of the boiling water was combined with a handful of dried berries, some of the nuts, and some neutrally sweet syrup in a small pot and set to simmer to create an infused syrup. (According to Asmaan this was the secret to her success.) Oddly enough, this dish was centered on using an orange peel in the syrup for flavoring, but he couldn’t do that here regardless of McKay’s allergy. Oranges simply weren’t available. He got so distracted by his musings on whether the berries were the right combination of tart and sweet to be a good replacement that John just barely remembered to pre-cook the bird meat with something he sincerely hoped tasted as much like onions as it smelled before throwing the lot of it into the pot of boiling water to make a not-quite-chicken stock.

Once he finally got to the part where the rice was actually cooking away in the stock along with the syrup, he decided to fry up the veggies he had massacred. They weren’t a traditional part of the dish, but hey, no one here knew that. He decided he could wing it with the spices and just serve the veggies on the side. All in all, things were going rather well. He was feeling pretty confident about his cooking abilities. It had been years since he had been required to do a mess rotation as part of his service, but it seemed his chopping and mixing skills were still up to par.

It was at this point, while John was contemplating how to fit the massive and much too heavy for its own good pan on the fire next to the giant pot of cooking rice that Representative Rwanna seemed to decide that he was a human being worthy of her time after all.

“For someone who professes not to follow in the footsteps of Maloshe, Colonel Sheppard, you sure seem to have created a dish with a heavenly aroma,” Rwanna told him unexpectedly.

“Uh, thanks,” John said, trying to keep his confusion from his face.

Rwanna smiled, “Maloshe is a hero of legend among the Elanaii,” the Representative explained. “She was the daughter of a High Councilman in the days long before the Trade Commission was formed who wanted to change the unfair practices of the ruling families. Naturally this made her unpopular among the powerful and she was pursued by enemies in both the political and physical realms. It is said that under the guise of _gojin_ , Maloshe convinced her enemies on the Council to sit at her table where they were honor bound to partake of a meal she cooked for them. The meal that she prepared was made only from the finest and most rare ingredients. Meat of the _kat’ka_ which can only be hunted one month of the year, spices from the highest mountains, greens from the lowest valleys, and fruit from across the seas.” Here she pointed to different ingredients that had been laid out for him, some of which John had used for his own meal – except for the greens. He had steered clear of the lettuce analogue since Rodney didn’t appreciate salads any more than John did. Still it was at least interesting that some of the legendary ingredients of the story were apparently in common use these days. John figured that meant there was more of a global trade system now than there was “in the days long before the Trade Commission was formed.” Which, duh, what else would a Trade Commission have been for?

“The meal,” Rwanna continued, “was said to taste so wondrous that it robbed Maloshe’s enemies of their anger, bitterness, and greed so that with each bite they fell deeper into pleasant memories of times long gone. With the council members so subdued, she was able to silence them and their opposition by locking them in stone. A new council was elected that decided to honor her advice and ideas. The most important of those ideas became the basis of the foundation of the Commission. Namely, that all trade goods should be made available to anyone who could afford them regardless of their bloodline or their family’s status.”

Given how important trade was to the Elanaii culture, John somehow wasn’t surprised that a story about some lady cook ended up reinforcing that significance. He was frankly more concerned about the purported effects of Maloshe’s famous meal. John wasn’t sure about falling into a trance or a fugue state of memories or whatever the story claimed happened, but there was definitely an allusion to some ingredient having a soporific effect if ingested. He looked at his pot of simmering rice and debated the odds of something he had used knocking everyone out for a couple hours. Surely Representative Rwanna would have warned him if he had accidently spiked everyone’s lunch with a sedative. He eyed her speculatively and couldn’t decide if the gentle amusement he saw on her face was actually outright mocking and she was just waiting for him to fail.

There was a small corner of his brain, however, that catalogued the story as something to tell Rodney. Trapping people in stone could be one of those fantasy perversions that all legends underwent and meant that in reality this planet had, or once had, something close to stasis pods, which implied a certain level of tech his team had yet to see. Of course, like with the rest of the galaxy, generations of Wraith cullings had probably seriously inhibited cultural growth and the passing on of old knowledge. As the Trade Captain had yet to decide if John and his team were worth trusting, now was perhaps not the best time to ask his host about potential hidden caches of Ancient technology, but if he and Rodney passed this test he planned on getting all the information he could.

“So you’re saying this Maloshe person is like your patron saint of cooking?” John asked in an effort to show he had been paying attention and wasn’t considering the possibility of the Elanaii playing them the same way the Genii had.

“I am not entirely certain what is meant by ‘patron saint,’ but she is held as an example of what one can achieve if one studies hard at learning the different properties and combinations of the many gifts Elan has to offer,” admitted Rwanna. “There are some who dedicate their lives to following in the footsteps of Maloshe so that they can capture entire memories or experiences with the flavors of one meal.”

John personally thought that was a weird way to describe the profession of “chef,” but who was he to argue? He wasn’t here to debate culture with anyone. He just wanted to get through the damn ritual, get their goods, and get back to Atlantis.

“That seems like a worthy pursuit,” John hedged. He knew offending important officials on potential ally planets was somewhere near the top of Woolsey’s “Do Not” list in capital letters.

Given that all he got in response was a raised eyebrow and a non-committal “hmmm,” John might have managed to offend her anyway. He worked for a few more silent minutes under Rwanna’s watchful eye feeling more nervous than he had since the whole lunch ordeal had started.

“As it seems you no longer require my assistance,” she suddenly commented, “I must go see to the crockery. I did not have time to bring out the appropriate dishes for entertaining the Trade Captain and the observers of a _dasha un ja’aru._ ”

“Sure,” John replied with a shrug.

And for the first time since they arrived on this planet, John was left alone. He took a couple of deep breaths to center himself and quickly realized that he really wished his team was with him. Oh, he knew they were just down the hall, but without being able to see them for himself he didn’t _know_ that they were okay, that they were safe.

Fortunately McKay seemed to have a similar idea. John looked up when he heard the distinctive sound of Rodney clearing his throat. “Hey,” McKay began somewhat nervously. “Everything alright in here? I don’t smell burning, so I’m guessing that’s a good sign.”

John just rolled his eyes. “Are you supposed to be in here McKay?”

“Probably not, but I saw that Representative woman wandering down the hall so I figured I could sneak in to check on you. Ronon has been staring intensely at an extremely abstract painting that features undue amounts of red in a very Jackson Pollock sort of way and all I can guess is that he’s debating whether or not it’s actually blood splatter. It's freaking me out to be honest. Meanwhile Teyla is schmoozing like she’s trying to get people to donate obscene amounts of money to a questionable charity.” John surpressed a smile as he watched Rodney pace the room and wave his hands about as he talked. “And somehow you’ve been in here for over an hour with a woman who looked at us like she would enjoy nothing more than to stab you with an extremely large knife and toss you to whatever carnivorous beasts they have on this planet. Which is to say, you’ve been on your own without a weapon and anything could have happened. Just because the Elanaii seem nice doesn’t mean they aren’t planning on separating you from the rest of us and torturing you for information.”

McKay was mostly babbling. It happened when he was worried. In this instance, however, John didn’t mind. McKay’s instinct to stay together and stay alive was a good one and it had taken John a good few years worth of harrowing offworld missions to drill it into his head. Trust, but verify, wasn’t that the saying?

“Clearly I’m fine, McKay, but thanks for the concern.”

Rodney sniffed disparagingly and folded his arms across his chest. “Yes, well. The flipside is that _you_ could be doing anything in here and I don’t want to get poisoned.”

John sighed. “I already told you, Rodney. I’m not going to poison you. I might end up drugging everyone into unconsciousness on accident, but I won’t poison you. I should think that you would know that after all these years.”

“You would think,” McKay said, then narrowed his eyes. “But then I seem to recall an incident with a lemon and a certain Colonel Mitchell the time SG-1 was in Pegasus to deal with that Super Gate. I know where he got that lemon, Sheppard.”

“Jeeze, Rodney,” John said in exasperation as he carefully lifted the hot pan of sautéed veggies off the fire. “It was a joke.”

“Oh, ha ha. Threatening my life with citrus is hilarious.”

“Give me a break. You had been a holy terror for the previous two days and I decided to get some harmless petty revenge. It’s not like Mitchell, or more importantly, it’s not like _I_ would ever actually force a lemon down your throat.”

“I remain skeptical.”

“Oh, come on. _I_ barely eat citrus anymore Rodney! The only time I do is when you want to trade the key lime pie from an MRE for my brownie because you were more focused on the main course than the dessert for once.” It was true. John wasn’t sure when, but he had stopped drinking orange juice as part of his regular breakfast and he would reach for ice water or iced tea now over lemonade when it was on offer. He wasn’t entirely sure what this said about him, but it surely meant he didn’t want to expose Rodney to deadly substances, even by proximity, if he could help it.

“Really?” McKay’s brow furrowed and his hands fell loosely back to his sides as he thought through a catalogue of all the meals he had eaten with John to check the accuracy of his statement. “Huh, I don’t think I ever noticed that before.”

“Of course not, but it proves my point. This whole exercise is about trust. I’m pretty sure you being in here accusing me of threatening your life with fruit will disqualify us,” Sheppard pointed out as he waved a wooden spoon-like utensil in McKay’s face. “Don’t forget that we could really use the resources the Elanaii are offering to share with us if we are deemed trustworthy, so let’s not blow this, alright?” John implored.

“No one knows I’m in here and I had to make sure you were okay!”

“I’m fine. You’ll be fine. Worst comes to worst, you all end up taking an unplanned nap after lunch. Now get out,” he made shooing motions at McKay, “Before Rwanna comes back with the dishes. We should be eating soon.”

“That’s something at least,” McKay muttered as he turned to go then he paused and turned back to John with an alert expression. “Wait, I thought you were joking about unconsciousness before. What is this about an unplanned nap?”

“Just something Rwanna told me. I don’t think it will be a problem, but I’m not positive.”

“You are not instilling me with confidence here Sheppard.”

“Seriously. You have nothing to worry about.” He made shooing motions again and Rodney reluctantly obeyed. “Oh and McKay,” he called before Rodney made it out the door. “Ask about the story of Maloshe. I think parts of it might interest you.”

Rodney gave him a look that said _whatever, local legends are useless to me_ , but John gave him the eyebrow of _I’m still your commanding officer in the field_ until he left.

Alone again, John checked on his fancy rice and debated whether he was required to make a dessert. Baking was out of the question, but he thought he could do something with those little purple fruits that he wanted to bring back to Atlantis for pie filling. A sort of roasted fruit and sweet cream thing. That sounded plausible. By the time Representative Rwanna returned with a couple of extra people in tow, each of whom were carrying a large stack of ceramic bowls, John was ready to get the show on the road. Rwanna offered to help him plate everything and soon enough they were ferrying steaming bowls of fragrant rice to a room down the hall that featured a low table surrounded by cushions. John was forced to choose a beverage that would complement his meal from a small selection of juices, wines, and ales. He decided on something with a low alcohol content – it was only lunch after all – and a light flavor so that the meal wouldn’t be overpowered by a strong wine. Who knew those years of listening to his father talk about fancy meals with this business partners would come in handy like this?

The Trade Captain led everyone into the dining room and bade them all sit down. John managed to score a seat next to Rodney and across from Ronon and Teyla, while Rwanna sat on his other side. He actually found her presence by his side to be reassuring now, despite McKay’s imaginings of her stabbing him. They may have had a shaky start, but apparently being even a novice cook was enough for her to warm up to John. There weren’t any speeches, for which John was grateful, but it was clear that Rodney was expected to try his lunch first as this was a test designed for him. John could see the brief struggle this caused each of his teammates since it went against their standard protocol to not let McKay eat anything first in case it contained something to which he might be allergic.

John unconsciously held his breath as Rodney sniffed the plate before him, gave John a considering look, shrugged, and finally took a bite. He chewed for a few seconds, his eyes growing wider with each movement of his jaw. “That’s not bad, Sheppard.” He took another bite. “In fact, I think I would go as far as to say this is really good!”

John let go of his breath in relief. “No need to sound so surprised, McKay,” he said trying to be nonchalant about it, but unable to keep a smile from curling up the corners of his mouth.

Rodney shoveled another huge portion of not-quite-chicken and almost-rice into his mouth before saying, “I’m serious. This is probably the best thing I’ve eaten in months!”

From across the table Ronon grinned at John. “That’s one hell of a recommendation,” he said then plunged into his own rice and veggies. Teyla wore an expression like that of a proud parent and started eating at a much more dignified pace.

Soon everyone was focused on their lunch. There wasn’t a lot of conversation, which John supposed was a good sign since it meant he had made something not only edible but apparently really tasty, although he suspected it had more to do with the Elanaii themselves. The Trade Captain seemed contemplative as he ate and one of his lieutenants was staring at her rice like it held the answers to the universe. Rwanna was content at John’s side and closed her eyes often as if savoring the flavors. Apparently John had underestimated how important that story of Maloshe was. No one seemed to be zoning out or going unconscious, but everyone from the Elanaii delegation was intent on experiencing their meal in a way that John had never seen from anyone of Earth origin.

Rodney asked for seconds without breaking the quiet by simply pushing his bowl toward John and looking up with expectant eyes.

John could only shake his head in incredulity and hope it wasn’t against the rules to leave the table to get more. His butt had barely left the cushion before Ronon also offered up his empty bowl for another helping. John glared at him, but snatched the bowl up anyway.

By the time the roasted fruit dessert made its way around the table the conversation had picked up again. Teyla had engaged the Trade Captain in a discussion of trading customs and was trying to get a feel for what the Lanteans could offer in trade that the Elanaii might place any value on. Two of the lieutenants seemed to be having an argument about the meal they had just eaten, but stopped short of asking John to answer their questions. Rwanna was talking to Ronon about knives, which made John smile even as he kept an ear on their discussion in the interest of gathering strategic knowledge.

Under the cover of these quiet conversations Rodney turned to John. “Listen, I asked about Maloshe like you wanted and I think you might be on to something. I haven’t been able to take many readings here without being seen, but what I did get from our initial walk into the village seems to indicate the presence of some kind of technology that gives off a definite energy signature.”

“Is that good?” John asked. “Or do you think they’re hiding an advanced society underground or in some caves?”

McKay shook his head. “I don’t think that’s it. If it were, then their ruse is a hell of a lot better than anything the Genii ever came up with. No, I’m thinking it’s more along the lines of an Ancient shield like on the Kid Planet.”

“But this society has global trade. The population is clearly not all contained to one location.”

“That’s why I said ‘along the lines of’ a shield, not that it was one. It’s the same level of energy output as a partially depleted ZPM.”

“Huh,” John grunted and thought about that for a moment or two. “Could there be an Ancient Outpost here somewhere? One with stasis pods and that sort of thing?”

“Maybe,” Rodney shrugged. “I want to take more readings to be sure. It’s also possible that another of the Elanaii legends could point us in the right direction, but I’m not sure how long we’d have to sit through a mythology lesson before we found anything useful.”

“Teyla probably wouldn’t mind,” John said thoughtfully. “Or we could send some of the anthropologists through. They love that kind of thing.”

“Ugh, yes. Make it someone else’s problem. I’m reasonably certain there’s not a decent ZPM here based on the preliminary readings, but there might be something else Ancient worth checking out.”

“If we’re given the go ahead to trade with them,” John qualified.

“How can they not?” Rodney said, full of confidence. “Your lunch was a complete hit.”

“It wasn’t about the food, McKay. It was about you and whether or not you trusted me to cook for you. I have no idea how you were acting during that hour or so you were in the Gathering Room with the Trade Captain and co. I hope you weren’t complaining the whole time about having to eat whatever I made.”

“I didn’t!”

John raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

“I didn’t say a word against you, I swear. Ask Teyla!” Rodney insisted even as he gestured at her frantically.

“It is true Colonel,” Teyla inserted into their conversation. “Dr. McKay was quite civil with our hosts.”

“He glanced down the hall toward the kitchen every three minutes, but yeah, he was civil,” Ronon clarified.

“Thank you for the unasked for commentary,” Rodney said snidely. “When do we find out if we’ve completed this ritual successfully anyway?”

“I have already been informed of your new status as _ja’aru kolah_ , trusted allies of the Elanaii,” Teyla announced with a smile.

“We have already been discussing ways in which both our societies may benefit fully from a strong trade agreement,” said the Trade Captain.

“Ah, I see,” Rodney said to cover his surprise. John could relate. Given the importance of the whole ordeal he figured there would at least be a grand announcement of success or failure. “In that case, I was wondering how you would feel about a cultural exchange? We have some anthropologists who would be very interested in your legend about Maloshe and other such stories your people have.”

John turned to stare at McKay in astonishment. Sure they had just talked about that very thing, but the way it had been proposed was the most diplomatic John had ever heard Rodney sound. McKay really had learned a thing or two over the years. Even Teyla was smiling proudly at him.

“We should be glad to impart our histories to your people, Dr. McKay. There are many lessons to be learned from the past,” the Trade Captain agreed.

***

By the time the sun began to set, John and his team were retrieving their weapons from the Trade Hall and gearing up to return through the gate with promises to be back to formally establish a trade agreement that included not only goods but an exchange of cultural and medical knowledge. All in all, John felt virtuous about the day’s work. There had been some hairy moments, but compared to facing down a few Wraith it was a walk in the park.

In addition, John had managed to surprise Rodney. Sure this time it was with cooking instead of his brain, which is how he usually caught McKay off guard, but he still counted it as a win. His lips held a small smile the whole way back to the gate, but each time Rodney shot a furtive look at him the smile got wider for a few moments.

The debrief back in Atlantis was relatively short and sweet. Woolsey was intrigued by the concept of the _dasha un ja’aru_ and expressed a desire to see the Elanaii Trade Hall for himself (no surprise there). The standard post-mission medical check-up turned up nothing hinky (so definitely no sedatives or any other chemicals in the food), and everyone was sent off to the ready-room or their quarters to change and shower as they saw fit.

John found himself walking next to McKay on his way out of the infirmary. They walked in a silence that slowly went from comfortable to slightly awkward when Rodney seemed like he was going to say something, but never actually did. John had no idea what was going on with his friend, but he knew he shouldn’t push it.

He wasn’t made of patience though. So sue him. “What is it Rodney? Spit it out.”

“What? No. Nothing,” he blurted out. “There’s nothing!”

“Okaaaay,” John said, drawing out the word to make it clear that he didn’t buy what McKay was selling.

Silence reigned once again as they got in the transporter together and John hit the map for the senior staff residential quarters. As they got closer to John’s room he could see McKay’s shoulders getting more and more tense, which in turn made John nervous. He couldn’t think of any reason for Rodney to be acting like this, so he didn’t know how to make it better, but he gave it a shot. “I know the food here can’t compare to the lunch I made, but I’ll see you in the mess in an hour?”

“Sure,” Rodney said absently while staring openly at John now with a quizzical look on his face.

“What?” asked John, he slightly unnerved.

Rodney waved a vague hand at the door behind John. “Can I come in?”

John studied Rodney for a moment trying to figure out what was going on, but gave up with a shrug. He palmed open the door to his quarters and waved Rodney in first.

“Okay, what’s up?” he asked as he watched Rodney begin to nervously pace his floor.

“So today,” Rodney began, “today was different.”

“Yeah.” John still wasn’t sure where this was going.

“No no, I don’t just mean the whole ritual thing. That’s not all that weird for Pegasus actually.”

“Right.”

“I mean what we did, or rather how we did it, was different.”

John thought about that for a moment. There was a slight fluttery sensation in his stomach brought on by Rodney’s words. “Different how?” he settled on asking.

Suddenly Rodney came to a halt directly in front of John and stared him right in the eye. “We did an activity together, a trust based activity, during which we held hands. A lot. And then you cooked me a meal. John, we basically went on a date today.”

John’s mouth went dry in an instant and he had to swallow hard a few times before he could make any words come out. When he did they were far too shaky for his liking. “I’m not sure it counts as a–”

“You kissed me, John.” Rodney’s voice was surprisingly soft. “Why did you do that?” The question wasn’t an accusation, it was a plea for information. It was Rodney looking for the final piece of data to make sense of the conclusions he was already drawing.

And he had used John’s first name. Not Sheppard. Not Colonel. John. The last time Rodney had done that was when he had had a parasite in his brain; when John was the person he turned to and trusted above all else. God, they hadn’t needed a damn ritual to tell them if they trusted each other, of course there was trust between them. It was instinctive at this point. Their trust for each other defined everything about how they interacted, whether they knew it or not. Not even their time in the San Francisco Bay or Rodney’s stint with Keller, no matter how annoying he had found their relationship, could change that. How had he never seen it before?

“John?” Rodney asked again when John still hadn’t given an answer.

“I don’t know,” he said still dazed by his realization. “It just seemed like the thing to do.” It had been the least of the things he had wanted to do at that moment. John remembered how it felt to curl himself around Rodney’s broad shoulders. He thought of the musky, coffee laced sent of Rodney’s skin as he had buried his face in Rodney’s neck. He recalled the way he felt heated and off balance when Rodney made a comment about John riding on his back.

For the second time that day John was standing at a precipice yearning for the sky, hoping he wouldn’t crash back to the earth. Only this time he wasn’t sure what to do to hold onto the blue that was just within reach.

“In that case,” Rodney’s voice said interrupting John’s turbulent thoughts. “There’s something I’ve wanted to…” he trailed off as he stepped into John’s space. 

John didn’t move. He felt no need to. Rodney had been close to him all day, he had even decided during that obstacle course that he didn’t mind that Rodney touched him more than anyone else. He had never minded Rodney touching him, why start now?

Rodney moved closer still and John watched in fascination as a proprietary hand was placed on his chest. He looked down at Rodney’s hand then up into a pair of sky blue eyes that were filled with both determination and just a touch of fear. The fear had no place in whatever this was, not for Rodney, John was certain of that. So he reached out to Rodney to place a hand on his shoulder to let him know that he shouldn’t be afraid. Not here on Atlantis, in John’s quarters, with John.

Some part of John noticed Rodney’s breathing stutter and his pupils blow out wide. Excitement or nerves he wasn’t sure. Wanting to allay any fears Rodney had left, John’s hand moved unconsciously around to the back of Rodney’s neck as they both leaned in. “Trust me,” he whispered just millimeters away from Rodney’s waiting mouth.

Their lips met and _finally_ John was flying.

There was nothing tentative about the way their lips moved against each other. From the first touch it was heat and teeth and tongues. Rodney bit at John’s bottom lip and in return John’s tongue raided Rodney’s mouth. John brought up his other hand so that he could angle Rodney’s head precisely how he wanted it so that he could kiss him deeper and closer. His body thrummed with energy and all he wanted was more. More of this feeling, more of Rodney, more of soaring high above the clouds with Rodney there to push him higher, further, faster.

Rodney moaned into John’s mouth and wrapped his arm low around John’s waist, pressing their whole bodies together. It was everything John never knew he wanted. A broad, powerful body under his hands instead of soft curves. A muscular thigh that pushed between his legs making him gasp in pleasure when the friction was suddenly perfect. A hot eager mouth that fought for control just as hard as John did. Was he going to freakout about suddenly acknowledging this long repressed aspect of his sexuality at the age of forty? Probably, but that was a problem for another time. Right now he reveled in the feel of Rodney pressed hard up against him, making him _want_.

In fact, John was never going to let Rodney go if this was how it felt to have him in his arms.

When Rodney pulled away to breathe John made a brief noise of protest before attacking the side of Rodney’s neck with open mouthed kisses. He pulled the collar of Rodney’s shirt out of the way and bit down on the newly exposed skin before doing his level best to leave a mark that would tell anyone who saw it that this man belonged to John. He drank in Rodney’s moans of pleasure while his mouth worked and his hands wormed their way under the hem of Rodney’s shirt to get to the warm flesh beneath. He wanted skin on skin, he wanted as much of Rodney as he could get. 

Rodney always accused him of following in Kirk’s footsteps and sleeping his way through Pegasus, but in reality John hadn’t been with anyone in years. Still, that didn’t explain the reaction of pure desire he was having in the face of Rodney’s firm body and evident hard length shoved up against him. The increasingly tiny part of his brain that was still capable of higher reasoning recognized that he had never been this greedy with a woman before. Sure at one time Nancy had turned him on, but not like this. Not to the point where he could barely control himself. This was something else entirely. “Wait…wait,” Rodney tried to say, but his voice was breathy. “John we should – oh god,” he interrupted himself to whimper and shudder when John brought one hand around to rub teasingly over a nipple as he licked his way back up Rodney’s neck to suck on an earlobe. “John. John, wait,” he finally managed to get out.

With a strength of will he didn’t think himself capable of at the moment, John pulled back so that his forehead rested against Rodney’s, but he kept his fingers on the peaked nipple he had been playing with. “What Rodney,” he asked in a voice that was all gravel and want.

“You promised me dinner,” Rodney practically panted out. “Before this goes any further we should get dinner.”

John growled at the thought of such a delay to the proceedings. “I already made you lunch, Rodney. Besides are you really that hungry at this exact moment?”

“Not as such, no.”

Seeing no further need for discussion, John instantly captured Rodney’s lips again with his own and started mapping every dip and curve of Rodney’s mouth with his tongue. The heat building between them was intoxicating and John wanted to bury himself in it. He pushed in closer, rolling his hips helplessly against the thigh still pressed between his legs.

A sharp tug on the hair at the back of his head had him groaning with pleasure even as he pulled back to gaze into Rodney’s bright blue eyes.

“It’s the principle of the thing, Sheppard. I don’t want just one night. I don’t want casual. I want you to take me to dinner.”

It took a moment for Rodney’s words to penetrate the haze of desire wrapped around John’s brain, but he finally got what the man in his arms was saying.

He could have this. He could have Rodney all the time. The banter, the movie debates, the math challenges, the strong shoulders, the intoxicating heat, the exhilarating sense of flight. All of it. But only if John was willing to commit to it.

That was the easiest question Rodney had ever asked him. Who cared about Don't Ask, Don't Tell? It was an international expedition in another galaxy for heaven’s sake. And if their time in the Bay had taught him anything, it was that John was never going to be happy living on Earth ever again. He was pretty sure Rodney felt the same way. Pegasus and Atlantis were home and neither would mean half so much without Rodney. Even if the brass tried to toss him out – and his gene alone made him indispensable to the expedition – he wouldn’t go back. So yeah, easy.

John leaned in to steal a brief hard kiss from Rodney’s swollen lips then pulled back just enough to say, “I will take you to dinner after. I will take you to dinner every night for as long as you’ll have me, just don’t ask me to let you out of my arms right now. You have me soaring through clear skies, Rodney, and I’m not ready to land yet.”

There was a pause and even though he couldn’t see Rodney’s full expression from so close, John could imagine the look of pleased astonishment. “Do you mean that?”

“Every word.” John emphasized his point with another hungry kiss that sought to demolish the very concept of space between their bodies.

“Pretty sure I’m gonna want you forever. I always have,” Rodney murmured against his lips.

“Good,” John growled and started backing Rodney toward the bed, one hand firmly gripping his hip the other making a start on the belt buckle at Rodney’s waist.

They tumbled onto the tiny mattress in a tangle of limbs before Rodney managed to get his hands on either side of John’s head so they could look each other in the eye. How John could have been blind to this before he had no idea. It was all there in Rodney’s brilliant sky blue eyes. The desire, the trust… the love.

He wanted it. He wanted it all like he had never wanted anything before in his life.

John cupped Rodney’s face in one hand and hoped that his eyes told Rodney everything he needed to know about how John felt about him. “Fly with me, Rodney,” he whispered and watched Rodney’s whole face flush with pleasure as he leaned down to show the smartest man in two galaxies just how good it could feel to soar across open skies.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't know where this story was going when I started writing it, but let me tell you, I did NOT foresee the afternoon I spent trying to write smut in broad daylight at my kitchen table. I spent two solid hours giggling at myself, completely unable to make things sound convincing before I decided to cut my losses and delete most of it. I have a new appreciation for people who can write really good smut. I can write about quantum field theory and astrophysics with no problems, but porn? Not a chance.


End file.
